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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098057">Milk Hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianixela/pseuds/ianixela'>ianixela</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Ben sucks at feelings, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Manhandling, Pining, Reylo - Freeform, Thirsty Rey, pls don't sue me, slow burn sorta, sweet Hux, the coffee shop au no one asked for, trash, tropes galore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:41:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098057</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianixela/pseuds/ianixela</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben owns a coffee shop, Rey is a broke expat student who needs work. Pining ensues.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>183</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Milk Hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yeah yeah yeah I know coffee shop AUs are cliché AF and no one likes them but I do because I’m terrible. Ben Solo is a dick somewhat in this but it's because feelings are hard, Hux is actually a nice character, and Rey is prickly...and also French (!?!?) and not an abused kid, Finn is her foster brother (!!!!)  in this pls don’t sue me I’m poor. This work is un-beta-ed and only edited by me so it probably sucks haha...</p>
<p>Warnings for language, explicit sex scenes, cheesy romance, the word “cunt” (if you can't take that word, we have a problem...), Ben being a little physically forceful out of desperation but there’s no non-con in this, just a bit of manhanding. Let me know where I messed up and forgive me for the cringe...on with the trash!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Her skin is sticking to itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her thick brown hair frizzing and curling on her forehead, sticking to her neck and shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfolding her limbs in sheets that feel damp with nightly sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's already sweltering out, sun barely up and yet, the breeze that blows in through the open window is balmy and hot pavement scented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wonders what made her consider going to the US for her master’s degree in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Especially when she wakes in her tiny, one room apartment, graciously paid for by a scholarship she fought tooth and nail for, drenched in sweat because summer in NYC is like living in a boiler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A furnace, even. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then again, Erica “Rey” Niima wasn’t best known for her thoughtful decisions and level-headedness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d arrived in the fall, not knowing what was to be expected after a biting cold winter, quickly finding out when the school year ended that the Eastern US could be both freezing arctic and scorching hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing like the temperate climate of her native Southwest France. She’s missing the cooling Hossegor sea breeze real bad right now...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rises from the futon on unsteady feet, still sleep addled, tripping over the discarded comforter. Making her way through the entire length of her apartment, which isn’t all that much, to reach the blissfully cool tile of the bathroom floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cold showers are a blessing, she thinks, luxuriating under the water for far longer than is necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course she’ll curse it for not being hot enough in the winter, but to each season it's complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breakfast is luxurious:  leftover potato hash and scrambled egg, a cup of cold green tea, eaten slowly, sitting on the floor while she browses the daily news on her laptop, working fragrant cocoa butter on her damp skin and then ends of her hair before it gets the chance to frizz again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The good stuff is hard to find here, Rey had quickly noticed, puzzled by American care products that all tried very hard to smell of artificial fruit and nondescript flowers. Maz Kanata, her old boss and mother figure back in Hossegor had taken pity on her and sent her a care package of all the french things she desperately missed; hoarding the jams, the caramel candy, kinder eggs and tubs of real cocoa butter like a miraculous concoction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The said cocoa butter tub was running low, and so are her funds, the contents of her bank account dwindling, from the dismal numbers she peers on the freshly opened e-statement from the bank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scholarship had its limits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would pay for her tuition, thank god for that, and a little bit extra, but her savings were running out and soon she’d be in trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just thinking of filling out job applications gave her a headache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her English has improved significantly since she’d first come, getting more fluent with each week, but the idea of putting herself out there purposefully filled her with mild terror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that she had much of a choice, looking at the decreasing figures in her bank account.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d have to do it, sooner than later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But not today, she’d decided, lying back on the wooden floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today was too hot to do anything.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It had taken a while getting used to sticking out like a sore thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun-bleached colour of her chestnut hair, from years of surfing. The green amber shade of her eyes and the gold dusk of her freckled skin. Her love for sunny yellows and burnt oranges. Her accent whenever she spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t be more inconspicuous in a city full of black suited people with the pasty complexions of humans who never saw the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Foreigner. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s how she had been labeled and frankly, she felt foreign enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t really mind it, not anymore. NYC had grown on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whizzing down the street on her bike, the breeze keeping her mercifully cool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has a job interview.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all thanks to Poe Dameron really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The political science major who’d bumped into her the first day of Uni, running right into her while turning a corner and sending them both tumbling to the floor in an explosion of paper and laptop bags.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d taken their bruised knees and egos to the quad to sort out which papers were whose and had struck up a friendly conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d been close ever since, they might even be roommates in the fall, and in the meantime, Poe had found her a job, maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My friend is the owner. I mean, he’s a little scary looking but he’s nothing to be afraid of, and he really needs a part time employee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean he’s scary?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe had laughed then, somewhat worryingly sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll see I guess. I’ll send him your resume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Scary</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a mild word to describe Benjamin Solo.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Baleful, glaring</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>utterly intimidating</span>
  </em>
  <span> were better ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benjamin “Ben” Solo is also devastatingly beautiful. Huge, tall, all legs and broad shoulders with thick, lush hair just the perfect side of too long and artfully dishevelled. His pale skin dotted with beauty marks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coffee shop, Rebel Coffee, was small, looking rustic and homey with its wood and recycled glass decor, and Ben fit there perfectly with his casual style, crisp white shirt and apron, perfectly cut black jeans and sneakers, both immaculate, completing the ensemble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, he looked anything but casual and laid back as she strolled in, sizing her up and down with a mixture of curiosity and what might have been a tinge of disdain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to tell really from the serious blankness of his features. Beautiful features they were though: Elegant nose, full lips, dark, soulful eyes framed with thick lashes. There’s a thin white scar bisecting his brow and his right cheek, and instead of making him ugly, it only makes him </span>
  <em>
    <span>hotter</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like a bad boy who’s been tamed enough to wear button down shirts, but barely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d sat her down in his tiny office in the back of the coffee shop, and let her stumble through her much rehearsed words for fifteen minutes without saying a single thing, studying her with those dark eyes. That intimidating calculating stare that makes her feel naked and for some odd reason mildly aroused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only opens his mouth an endless minute after she’d finished, leaving her wondering if he was impressed or if she’d messed up on a massive scale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Impossible to tell from his face alone. The man is as expressionless as a mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Erica…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rey. Just Rey.” she corrects, feeling her cheeks burn when his elegant brows rise a fraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>”Your English is passable,” he starts, in a voice so low and deep she has to strain her ear a little to hear properly, “But your experience seems adequate, and since Dameron recommended you, I suppose you’re hired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I have the job?” she asks, not sure if he actually means what he says, and he sighs, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, weren’t you listening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches in a bin behind him, digging blindly, pulling out two aprons, one black and one white, neatly folded and wrapped in plastic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t lose them, and please keep them clean. Wear a shirt the colour of the apron on your shifts.” he eyes her yellow daisy printed tee dubiously, “ You start tomorrow at 7, don’t be late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabs the aprons gingerly, and assuming that it was her cue to get the hell out of Rebel Coffee before he changes his mind, bows deeply </span>
  <em>
    <span>like a fucking idiot </span>
  </em>
  <span> before running out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did I just fucking </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>bow</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> to that guy...fuck me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She calls Poe on her bike ride back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Scary</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Scary wasn’t enough to describe him, Jesus…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Aw come on…once you know him, you’ll be fine. And besides…isn’t he good looking?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my new boss!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe was right, she did find him very good looking, but certainly wasn’t about to spill that to big-mouthed Dameron of all people.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah so…he’s kinda hot.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he always that fucking intimidating?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe snorts at the other end.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Far from it. I think it's his way to weed out the weak ones to be honest. Seems like you passed if you got the job…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did mention he was hiring me because of your recommendation. He said my English was </span>
  <em>
    <span>passable</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What the fuck does that even mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s laughter at the other end.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s so mean, Jesus…Seriously don’t worry about Ben Solo. He might seem scary, but when you know him he’s a really sweet guy. I’ve known him since we were kids, don’t sweat it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, she had a few doubts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was no going back now, she needed a job badly, and for the time being she had one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All that was left to do was to survive her first shift.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“You’re early. Good.” is the only thing Ben says before handing her a cute round name tag and disappearing beyond the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her name is handwritten on the wooden tag, in beautiful calligraphy. Rey. Just the sight of it makes her smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's an improvement to the beginning of her day. She’d biked like crazy through the sweltering morning heat to make sure she was ahead of time, somehow feeling like her first day on the job would be anything but easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you just gonna stand there? Come on, follow me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She realizes that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> just been standing there, staring at her name tag, feeling utterly under-caffeinated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, there’s a warm cup waiting for her on the other side of the counter, deftly poured by Ben’s elegant hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are big and strong, matching the rest of his anatomy, but his fingers are delicately tapered and the way he touches everything is gentle and precise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clearly has a lot of skill with latte art, observing the graceful plumes of milk foam at the surface of her cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A skill she didn’t have but that she would hopefully learn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I brewed the first pot of drip but you should start another, the clients are gonna arrive soon. You know how to use these?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He points to the Italian espresso machine, the coffee grinder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve used similar models before at my old job in France. I should figure it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d worked at an artisan coffee shop back home, for two solid years before moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just that Maz had been a sweet little lady with hippie dresses and Birkenstocks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben Solo was a sharp comparison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods at her words, adjusting his white apron on his white tee, looking immaculate as ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll handle the cash register, and you make the coffees. Hopefully you don’t mess up too badly.” he mumbles, disappearing in his office to get the register drawer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez…” she hisses under her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today definitely won’t be easy, but it's not like she has much of a choice. Rent was due two days ago and she really needed the extra cash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stream of clients pouring in when Ben opens the door is dizzying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Young students on their way to school, business people in smart attire, regulars with their reserved spots by the window and quite the smattering of elderly ladies in summer print dresses, batting lashes at Ben with unabashed candor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only takes a few minutes to understand why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben knows every client by name, knows their orders to the finite details, and even takes a few seconds to ask about the big contract, the grandkids or the school project.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has to give him that, he might seem scary, but he certainly knows his way around good customer service.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The steady traffic doesn’t let up until its way past lunch time, and by then she is famished and sweaty, her hair frizzing out of control, escaping the half bun she had tried to tame them into that morning. Ben hardly even looks like he’s been working, still looking fresh despite the fact that he’s hopped behind the espresso machine to help her along a few times. She envies his inherent coolness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tall guy with bright ginger hair and a savvy fashion sense enters the shop, looking rather sweaty and hassled, Ben greeting him with a glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re ten minutes late Hux”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry! I overslept…” the young man apologizes, running behind the counter and disappearing in the employee room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you have class today?” Ben asks over his shoulder, flinching at the racket the newcomer, Hux, makes as he trips over the broom, sending the whole thing clattering to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, my elective stats class so you can bet I overslept…” Hux snorts, emerging from the open doorway wearing a black button down that could use with a good ironing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben rolls his eyes at the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really hope you’re not flunking it this term…Get to work.” Ben admonishes, sounding like a stern parent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That tone of voice does things to her body she’d rather not dwell on too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hux turns sharply on his heel and nearly collides with her, stopping just short of bowling her over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at her, a little wide eyed. His eyes are limpid blue like tropical waters and his complexion like milk, his striking face dusted with a bit of ginger stubble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Ben, am I hallucinating or there’s a cute girl making the coffee today?” Hux asks, a grin showing straight white teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wonders if Ben only hires attractive guys out of preference or good business sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Assuming from the pointedly interested look the lady at the counter waiting for her order is giving Hux, it's most </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> good business.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Armie Hux, Meet our new employee, Rey Niima. Can you show her the cash register? I have paperwork to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben turns on his heel and disappears in his office, closing the door behind himself, leaving her and Hux staring at the door and then each other for a few awkward seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always a charmer that Ben Solo” Hux mutters, reaching in the pastry case for a mini croissant, shoving it whole in his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Painfully reminding her of how hungry she is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, are we allowed lunch breaks or something?” she asks, stomach gurgling audibly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hux snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did he have you come this morning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez…and he wonders why we don’t keep new employees for long. Yeah you can definitely take a break. Take something to eat, you just have to write it down on this pad here, and we deduct it from inventory at the end of the day.” he explains, pointing to a notepad pinned on the wall by the employee room door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so you guys eat for free?” she asks, hopeful, thinking of all the money she’ll save eating at work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hux laughs outright this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think we deserve it, working with that monster…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t laugh. She hasn’t been here long enough to dare, but the grin hurts her cheeks.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Armie Hux is fun to work with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patient, chatty, jokes bubbling up of their own accord, his laughter low and fluted. And a gift for snark fit to rival the elderly hags of the world, much to Rey’s amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shows her everything and anything she might want to know about the running of the coffee shop. From the cash register to where to find supplies and everything in between, the day to day nitty-gritty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s an art major, with a big interest in film, and he spends the whole afternoon quizzing her on european cinema, her family, her knowledge of coffee and a whole assortment of subjects from music to food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s silly and extroverted and it definitely makes time fly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enough for her to be surprised when Ben emerges from his office, glasses perched on the end of his nose, telling her that she can go home for the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already?” she asks, cleaning up a stack of porcelain mugs in the sink and she is graced with a rare smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way it lights up his entire face makes butterflies erupt in the pit of her stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really is beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's ten past six, I don’t want to overwork you just yet…” he jokes, handing her a sheet with a printed schedule before turning back on his heel to his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a single client said that the coffee sucked so I guess you did good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was an odd way of saying goodbye, but at this point she could hardly be surprised by anything.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Ben Solo is a tough boss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s demanding, exacting, and one should proceed with caution when catching him in a bad mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is most days, technically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben’s moods always hover over the thinnest of lines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you wearing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s eyeing her rather threadbare black tee with scarcely concealed disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granted, it was a little frayed at the hems, the fabric worn thin. But it was still serviceable in her opinion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My last clean tee…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben sighs, eyes rolling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why must you </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> dress like you’re homeless?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He disappears in his office, emerging with a black button down on a hanger, neatly pressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wear this. I don’t want clients thinking I’m mistreating you…it's already bad that Hux doesn’t own a single clean shirt.” He mutters, draping the shirt over her shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t expected him to help her into it, but he does. Carefully tying each of the small buttons, adjusting the collar. Its huge on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels a little helpless, blood rushing to her face for god knows what reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A grown woman blushing when a guy touches her. How embarrassing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s been way too long since her last date. Maybe she just needs a good, rough dicking down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it's just that Ben is gorgeous, no matter how unpleasant he can be at times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls the too long sleeves up her arms carefully, pausing to eye his handiwork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes linger on her face for a second, and he shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like that shirt on you. Too bad there’s nothing I can do for your hair...” gesturing at the haphazard buns she’s scraped the wild strands into, enhanced by the humid heat outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitates for a second, and before she can move out of the way he tugs at the elastics, gently but firmly, freeing the chestnut lengths. Arranging them around her face pensively. She tugs his hand away, self conscious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re mean, you don’t know what it's like having crazy hair!” she whines, shaking the wavy profusion to unstick it from her sweaty neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I wake up like this?” he snorts, pointing at his own perfect, lustrous locks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes narrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m ready to bet my pay check you actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> wake up like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His little coy smile is so perfect she feels like she's been punched in the gut, especially when he reaches for her strands again, his body close enough to hers to feel the heat that emanates from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your hair </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> crazy, I like the cocoa butter scent though…” he murmurs, pensively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tugs on one of the curls, softly, watching it bounce back with a little snort, before disappearing in the office with no explanation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making her wonder if she’d ever really understand what was going on in that odd brain of his.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It was hard to study at one’s workplace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beginning of the fall semester was just around the corner, and she’d gotten a little behind on her thesis working full time at the shop, trying to catch up whenever she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her part-time plans had soon morphed into full-time work schedules, the place getting too busy for Ben to handle on his own. Not that she could complain much, the money was good and she needed it badly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her work schedule mostly built around morning shifts, she’d just bring along her laptop and would spend the afternoon sitting in the far corner, drinking all the free coffee she could handle and taking advantage of the fast internet to advance her work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spending the summer working there, however, had made her a well known fixture, and the regulars, seeing her sitting there couldn’t help but come ask what she was up to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made her progress rather slow, not wanting to be rude, but after explaining the finer points of her advanced electrical engineering thesis to an elderly regular who knew next to nothing about engineering for what seemed like the hundredth time, she felt ready to murder someone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t it be easier to study at home though? Hux asks, locking up the door of the shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been there all day, her head pounding from explaining herself all afternoon, closing her laptop with a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I head home straight from work, I’ll just crash and be too exhausted to study. At least if I stay here, I have coffee to keep me awake and no bed to tempt me.” she explains, shuffling behind the counter to grab a cloth soaking in disinfectant solution.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she was still around, might as well help Hux close the place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's hard work being a student.” the young man sighs, picking up the broom in the corner, “Its all work no play.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about it…I grew up poor, you know? My foster dad did the best he could, but I always had to work to get by.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, same here. Working here is the only way I can pay for school.” Hux explains, sweeping carefully underneath the tables, the ends of his ears reddening a little, “My mom can’t afford to send both me and my sister to school so since I’m the eldest, I decided I would pay for Uni myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s really nice of you Hux. I’m sure it's helping your mom a lot.” she replies, impressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew what that was like, coming from a family of orphaned kids raised by a single foster dad, Daniel Niima. Her poor old man worked very hard to get his two wards clothed, fed and educated in a system more broken than functional. She’d done her share of the work whenever she could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hux laughs, embarrassed, but she can see the straight set of his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's leaving enough money for my sister to play on her basketball team and go on tournaments and such so I’m happy to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re interrupted by Ben’s voice from behind the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not paying you to chat Hux…and I’m definitely not paying you for not having a life, Rey.” he adds, looking her over with a cocked brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I stuck around to study after my shift, I’m just helping out Hux.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Confirming that you certainly don’t have a life…” he teases, without malice, hints of a smile lifting a corner of his full mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that’s just mean. I’m here working for free!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. That means it should take Hux half as long to close up shop then?” he eyes his watch, clicking his tongue, “You guys have fifteen minutes, better get to it no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He disappears in his office, leaving them both scrambling to finish up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a pain in the ass sometimes…” she mutters under her breath and Hux laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only sometimes? You haven’t worked here long enough then…”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The next day, Ben calls her into his office after her shift has ended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rey wonders what she did wrong, again, preparing to apologize only to notice that the end of the large table that Ben uses as an office desk has been cleared up of papers and the miscellaneous stuff usually stacked on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chair neatly pulled up to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The expression on Ben’s face is hard to decipher. Half-pleased with himself, half-painfully embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cleared you a space.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To study…I mean, I noticed that the clients were bothering you a little so I…well. I care about my employees and their academic pursuits so I…yeah.” he explains, looking a little flustered, gesturing to the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s a little dumbstruck and only stares for a second before feeling her whole face get red and hot. As red as she can get underneath her freckled skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…okay. That’s really nice Ben, I mean, you didn’t have to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No chatting. No questions and no coffee spills or crumbs on my paperwork. Those are the rules.” Ben interrupts, back to his cool and collected self.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good! Now get to work…” he mumbles, exiting the office like there’s a couple fires outside of it he has to extinguish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t stop smiling even if she tried. Her face nearly hurts with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sets up the laptop and sits down in the beat up chair, cracking her knuckles in the pleasant quietness of Ben’s office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hustle and bustle on the other side of the door nothing but pleasant white noise.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When the phone rings at five in the morning she thinks someone might have died.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it's Ben Solo at the other end of the line, sounding a little panicked and frazzled in her sleepy ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I really need you here at the shop. Like now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I late?” she asks, trying to force her brain out of sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, no but I really need your help, can you come please?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a desperation in his voice that jolts her awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Give me ten minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s what feels like a torrent of relief in the simple words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It does something to the pit of her stomach she doesn’t want to dwell too much on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she gets to the coffee shop, there’s three inches of water on the floor like a shallow pool. Covering the entirety of the shop, and Ben’s already wading across with jeans rolled up to his pale knees, white tee soaked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A pipe broke and I don’t know what to do!” were the first, slightly panicked words right out his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t comment on how her hair is like a crazy gold and chestnut halo, how her sweater could handle ironing and a little mending, and his forgoes his usual teasing on how sweaty she manages to get within a five minute bike ride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you turn off the valve?” she asks, rolling up her leggings and tugging off her sneakers and socks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, called the plumber, he'll be here later. But I mean…look at this</span>
  <em>
    <span> mess</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We have to open in two hours!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks slightly panicked and if the situation hadn’t been so urgent she might have found it slightly amusing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, we might have to delay opening hours a little bit today, we have to clean this up. How is the back of the shop looking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her sensible words seem to have a calming effect on him and he wades over to her, grabbing her outstretched hand in his to guide her through the shop without slipping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's not too bad, the back is slightly elevated so it didn’t get flooded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Do we have a vacuum cleaner? Like one of those big industrial ones?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben’s eyes brighten at the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do! My dad’s shopvac is back in the storage room. Do you think it could work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles, clasping his strong fingers not to slip when they reach the wet tile at the other end of the shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s how Maz did it back home when her basement would get flooded, at least we could try.” she offers, throwing her shoes and socks in the thankfully dry office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben nods, looking a measure less worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There might even be a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, let’s get to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shop is somewhat presentable a good hour later, the both of them mopping the last of the water as the first clients show up at the door. She’s exhausted but proud of her work, taking the mop handle out of Ben’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go wash up, I’ll finish mopping while you serve the early clients.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can finish the mopping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grins, holding the mop out of his reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, you could use a little break, how early did you get here anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grins, a little sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Four this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, my point exactly. Come on, go rest a bit and wash up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you insist…but I’m still the boss here, you know?” he jokes, walking over to the office in bare feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It draws attention to how long his legs are, muscular, lean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It used to intimidate her, how tall he is compared to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now she just notices how good his legs look, which makes her want to maybe vaporize herself and disappear in a cloud of smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Ben is her boss and she wants to smack him across the head on a regular basis because he’s an idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Most</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the time anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time noon arrives, along with Hux, she hardly has any brain left to function. They had opened the shop hastily, no time for her usual coffee and breakfast, leaving her exhausted, famished and confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until Ben appears by her side at the coffee machine, grabbing her shoulder and steering her into the office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the end of the desk is a slice of bread on a little plate, some soup, clearly homemade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to eat something, real food, not the junk you call lunch. I don’t want your family to sue me if you die on the job…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All she can do is laugh, as her poor dad could never afford to sue anyone even if he wanted to. She’s too tired to do anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soup is hearty, the bread fresh, and she polishes the meal in the time it usually takes her to eat her morning protein bar. The very bars that Ben calls “robot food” with endless disdain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s starting to stand up when he reappears, holding a cup. A coconut latte, her favourite, expertly poured by Ben himself judging from the delicate feather of milk foam on the surface of the cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestures for her to grab a seat, placing the steaming cup in front of her. His hand presses on her shoulder, spanning her entire shoulder blade, thumb on her collarbone. Gentle, keeping her still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rey feels like she’s under a spell, with his warm hand grounding her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve worked hard enough today, you need a real break. Hux and I are handling the rush, rest a little more.” he assures, heading back out of the office before she can say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coffee is hot and soothing, and soon after her eyelids feel heavy and she thinks that maybe she can rest with her eyes closed, just for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she wakes, her head is pillowed on her arms, resting on the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a thick, soft black hoodie draped over her, big enough to swim in. Cozy, smelling of that nondescript, soothing fresh laundry scent mixed with whatever boys put on their bodies not to repel other humans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Woodsy cedar and a hint of sweetness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wishes she could roll in the scent, wrapping the hoodie tighter around herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only five more minutes, she tells herself, closing her eyes.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>She’s starting to know all the regulars as well as Ben and Hux, and they make her happy enough, but it's nothing like seeing her foster brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d expected him to drop by, but she can’t help but wave like mad when he pops in the coffee shop in the middle of a dead Tuesday afternoon, right after she’s finished her shift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s known Finn since they were little, two orphaned kids going through the system with pretty much everything in common. Their foster father, a very compassionate soul, hadn't wanted to separate them and had applied to foster the two of them. It had been an interesting childhood,  playing hide and seek in the woods behind the neighbouring houses and helping each other with homework from elementary all the way through college. Sharing a room, clothes, and even once, accidentally, a love interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing a familiar face makes her want to cry. She’s been in the US two years, and she hasn’t been back home since. They’d talked every day, of course, but she hasn’t seen him in ages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn sticks out like a sore thumb in the shop, a peacock in a sea of black suits and sober outfits. Skin like burnished copper, long locs going gold at the ends piled on top of his head, adding inches to his stature. Dressed in the same eclectic colour schemes as his sister, head to toe in shiny surf brand gear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile is bright white and beautifully familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hug bone crushing and she laughs when he lifts her off her feet with the force of it, even if their height is somewhat matched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's so good to see you brother!” she mumbles in his jacket and he laughs, settling her back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same sis, same…you don’t look too starved I’m relieved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is bright clarion, amused, and it just feels good to hear some French. A little bit of home, the words slipping back on her tongue familiar and comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was your flight? How’s dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Long.” he snorts, “I still can’t feel my legs, and dad wants to buy a boat? Funny old man...and he wants to visit, I think he’ll be down here for Christmas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pats her hair, tugging the waves just like when they were little and she swats his hand off, laughing, oblivious to the hundreds of eyes turned their way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re dropping by on your way to California, I feel like I haven’t seen a familiar face in forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn was headed to Southern California to pursue a pro-surfing career that he’d started when they were kids in Hossegor. He’d decided to layover for a little visit, definitely thankful for the small break to portion out his long flights into manageable increments. He definitely was anything but inconspicuous, the coffee shop patrons failing at hiding their awe. She forgets that most people around them probably understand nothing of their obnoxious babble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, are you crazy?” he snorts, “I couldn’t go across the world and not come by to see you! Besides, this place is looking pretty good…And I’ll be closer now, we can hang all the time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Its to tide me over for a bit. Working here isn’t too bad, the clients are really nice. I won’t be mad to come hang out in California though...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn surveys the shop, nodding along, until his gaze pauses on something in the background.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that tall dude over there your new boyfriend? Because he’s looking at me like I’m hitting on his girl and he’s not happy about it…” he asks, speaking low and endlessly amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She whirls on her feet and notices Ben staring at them from the other side of the counter with the narrowed-eyed gaze of someone plotting bloody murder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that she’s unfamiliar with the look, sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah that’s my boss, Ben. He’s always mad at me for some reason, probably pissed I’m making a commotion in the shop. I’ll go say bye and then let's go sight-seeing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn nods, snorting a little at the explanation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks to me like he’s jealous that I’m encroaching on his territory, but that’s just my manly opinion…” he teases, wincing-laughing when she smacks his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saunters over to the counter, picking up her bag and jacket from the hooks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be going now, see you tomorrow?” she asks Ben, who looks visibly annoyed at her cheerfulness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Is that a date?” he asks, tilting his head over to where Finn is standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a brother I haven’t seen in a very long time. We’re gonna go sightsee and eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben grunts, not looking any pleased by her answer, looking at Finn like he’s sizing him up before turning to her, his dark eyes unflinching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be late tomorrow…” he admonishes in a tone she’s never heard before, walking past her to disappear in his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had there been disappointment in his voice?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There would be no way of knowing for sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn elbows her a little as they venture out of the shop and into the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you probably won’t agree with me but I’d bet my best board that the guy is into you…I mean, he was sizing me up like he wanted to fight…You should clarify that we’re actually siblings, different skin colour notwithstanding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re definitely in the weeds Finn, the guy insults and pesters me on a daily basis, there’s no way in hell…he probably was intimidated by your style, I don’t even know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn shrugs, in that annoying way that she knows is reserved for when he’s convinced he’s right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only time will tell.” he replies, clearly amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wonders what everyone sees in him that she can’t see herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time will tell, she hopes.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Sometimes she just wishes she could murder him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d insulted her english, again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And her wild hair too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not to mention the day before when he’d complained about the quality of her coffee, for the first time ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously I don’t know what’s up with him these days…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe shrugs, slurping his soup loudly from a bright blue thermos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ben is weird. He’s always been moody.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moody is too mild of a word. I mean, we were getting there, he was starting to be friendly with me and then all of a sudden, there’s nothing that I do that is right.” she sighs, picking at her sandwich.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were enjoying the last few days of sun in a nearby park, the leaves already orange and red, covering the grass and paths like a patterned blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been working at the coffee shop for six months already, and yet, she felt she had made next to no progress with its mercurial owner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was friendly one day, downright evil the next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s usually mad at people he likes, in my experience. It's a pretty shitty technique but he’s not good at...feeling things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks of Finn and what he had told her a month prior, that Ben seemed into her, making her shrug in frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I fail to see the logic in that tactic…and how is that my problem to fix? I wish he was upfront...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had been girls coming to see Ben at the shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Always different ones, many of them very pretty, and he would indulge their chatting and batting of lashes. Whacking Hux with tea towels when he’d make fun of him afterwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d never heard of dates and girlfriends otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He hasn’t dated in a long time, to be fair.” Poe remarked, as if reading her thoughts, “There was this one girl at some point but it didn’t last. He cares about work more than anything else. The shop is all he has, put all of his savings in it when he took it over from his uncle. At least it's doing a little better now than at the beginning…but yeah, Ben has a hard time expressing his feelings, and stress makes him unbearable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorts, toying with the straw of her iced tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He feels about as emotional as a block of ice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he likes you. He’s just not very good at expressing it. He wouldn’t bother teasing you if he didn’t care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have my doubts on that…I might quit soon anyway. I think I have saved enough from this summer to live on for a few months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew how to be thrifty, and instead of spending her newly earned cash on new clothing and expensive outings, she’d squirreled it all away in a savings account. She’d have to get a new job by the end of the winter, but she definitely had a little bit to live on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I mean, I’ll see how it goes, and I like Hux. He's really nice but the whole icee queen thing is getting exhausting. There’s the fact that my brain goes straight to the gutter when he shows up to work in tight tees too...His arms, man...” she huffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhmm…” Poe opines, “Ben is supremely good at a couple things: making coffee, and working out. That guy could bench press me without breaking a sweat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rey groans, hiding her flushed cheeks with her scarf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s infuriatingly hot, and confusing as fuck…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to talk to him? Seriously. I have no problem telling him he’s being a dick.” Poe asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it would change anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe shrugs again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea. He’s the most stubborn person I know, and when he thinks he’s right…there’s not much anyone can do. Have you told him the hot and cold thing bothers you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think he takes anything that comes out of my mouth seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should tell him, before you crack and end up throttling him. Or fucking him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t that be nice…hopefully the latter before the former.” she mumbles, sending Poe into fits of laughter.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It was odd working an evening shift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hux had asked for the switch when one of his classes had changed schedules for the week, and she’d agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air was cold and crisp out, tugging her old jacket tight around herself. She’d have to get a new one soon, after a couple more pay checks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she’d treat herself to new shoes too, sometime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a good job waiting for her in the tech industry when she’d be finished with her engineering studies, but being a broke student was starting to get old.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben was in his office when she arrived, Hux cleaning up some tables.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” he greeted, scooting over to her, “You might want to lay low, he’s in a real shitty mood today. Wasn’t too happy about our switcheroo schedules…” Hux whispers, looking a little sheepish, “When I got there this morning he looked like someone had pissed in his coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He already hates me, how much worse can it get?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates </span>
  </em>
  <span>you…he’s just...frustrated.” Hux squeaks, clearly knowing something she doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why does everyone think he likes me?!” she whines, shuffling behind the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hux snorts, following her along to put away the broom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you notice how he’s constantly looking at you? Looking out for you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and he looks like he’s plotting my early demise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hux’s eyes roll all the way back in their sockets dramatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the record, I’ve known him for years and I’ve never seen him act like this around a girl, ever. You’re so dense, and so is he. I’m just giving you a heads up…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The office door opens with a creak and both turn to see Ben standing in the doorframe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not paying you two to chitchat, get back to work.” are the terse words out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes the door a little harder than necessary, making them both flinch a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…I guess you’re right. Ben can’t hate, its too warm of an emotion and he’s fucking cold as ice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hux lets out a small laugh at the words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then, enjoy your shift…”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Thursday nights are never this busy, but there’s something in the air tonight, the clients in and out in droves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s swamped, a line at the counter stretching all the way to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweating behind the coffee machine and cursing all the damn people who decided to stroll out in the cold tonight and get warm with hot drinks from Rebel Coffee of all places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thanks her sharp memory for keeping her on top of orders, but they are piling up faster than she can get them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s spilled coffee on her ratty sneakers for what feels like the hundredth time when Ben materializes beside her, gently pushing her out of the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What's left to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two mochas, five lattes and a cappuccino with cocoa on top.” she lists, feeling frazzled and overheated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyes the mess all over the counter and sighs a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll handle it. Go take the orders at the counter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t feel like arguing that she can handle it on her own when she clearly can’t, so she plasters a smile back on and heads to the register.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben is good at what he does, better than most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches him whip up the orders timely and neatly, without wasting time and motion. He truly is passionate about coffee, and definitely looks happiest behind the steaming machines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes an hour for the rush to die down, leaving her with half an hour to clean up and close. Ben helps instead of disappearing in his office, cleaning the machines and cups while she takes care of the tables and broom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is somewhat comfortable silence until Ben locks up the front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d appreciate it if next time you decide to play manager with the schedules you’d warn me ahead of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She throws the cloth she had been cleaning the tables with in the sink, slowly exhaling through her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was last minute last night and I didn’t want Hux to miss his class.” she replies, turning around to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d come closer to the counter by then, looking about ready to throttle her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What part of ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>ask me first’</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you not understand? Do I have to speak slower for you?” he asks, in a tone patronizing enough to make her grit her teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not finished, edging even closer into her bubble until she’s trapped between him and the counter and its definitely a position she wouldn’t mind being in if she hadn’t had cold blooded murder on the mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a pain in the ass. It's bad enough that you come to work every day sweaty and messed up like you just rolled around in bed with someone, dressing like you’re homeless and constantly eating junk that’s terrible for you. But then you have to fuck with my routine too? You have no idea how stressed I am when I don’t know if you’re alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If the words uttered from his mouth hadn’t been enough to render her completely </span>
  <em>
    <span>furious</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his tone would have done it just fine. But the shock of his last sentence is what sets her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She straightens her spine, trying to stand as tall as she can, which isn’t much compared to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>cared about the people who work for you, you’d have figured out that as a broke student, I have to pick between food, rent and new clothes sometimes so yeah, sorry if my old clothes and cheap food choices offend you. And how dare you assume stuff about my personal life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks, not expecting her to retaliate, clearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So there’s no guy in your life then? Who’s that guy you were out with last time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would you care? And that guy was Finn, my foster brother. We’ve known each other since we were literal toddlers. Besides, it's none of your business, you won’t ever have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stress</span>
  </em>
  <span> about me again, and there’s nothing more to discuss because I fucking quit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben goes pale. He had not expected this at all, mouth falling open in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes her feel a little smug, as she unties the black apron around her waist, throwing it at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t quit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckles, sidestepping him to grab her jacket on the hook.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Watch me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sure can, and I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben lets go of the apron, grabbing her wrist before she can reach the jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you here, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a whole measure of panic in his voice that reminds her of the summer’s flood. Things had started going downhill after that, the teasing turning into bullying, the requests into orders, making everyone tiptoe around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's easy for you to say, you’re not the one being constantly bullied here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh with you, it's just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs his hand off her wrist and he grabs her shoulder instead, turning her towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face is set in worried lines that look genuine, his eyes so dark. She wishes he was less beautiful, his good looks softening her resolve, mentally berating herself for being so shallow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to hear anything more from you, Ben. You’re a fucking ass and you pushed me too far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…Rey, please…” he struggles with his words and she pulls away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face goes from panic to determination and before she can process what’s going on, her face is cradled in his warm hands and he’s bending his face to hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth is soft but insistent, prying her lips apart and she yields without a second thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wants to throttle him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wants to</span>
  <em>
    <span> fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brain is still struggling on what she wants most when he pulls away, flush-cheeked and heavy lidded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath hot and fast on her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His palms are soft, burning hot against her cheeks, her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there isn’t any softness in their touch, only repressed urgency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you still think I’m an ass?” he asks, softly, cautious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has the brief satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen when she kisses him back, shoving both arms around his neck. Pulling him down to her and he replies in kind, pulling her closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s anger, revenge in her kiss. For every instance of him frustrating the fuck out of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting the jut of his lower lip, fisting the thick, silky hair at the nape of his neck. He groans against her mouth, crowding her against the stainless steel prep counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s radiating heat against her, bending her backwards with the force of his kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something jolts awake in the pit of her stomach when his hands reach for her waist, sliding down the small of her back, grabbing at the swell of her ass and pushing her up and tight against him, cursing breathlessly against her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something violent and demanding satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lust, bright and hot, coursing from her stomach down her legs, up her chest when his mouth slides from her own lips to kiss the underside of her chin, her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sharpness of teeth on her skin pulls a raw, needy sound from her throat and she feels him shudder with need against her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There is no logic to this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brain is screaming it at her as she shoves his tee over his head and sticks her mouth to his pale chest, flattening her tongue against a raised nipple, teeth tugging at sensitive flesh only to hear him hiss and curse. As she reaches down between them to tear the button fly of his jeans open, forcefully, his dark, heavy lidded gaze urging her on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much heat, his skin burning underneath her fingers and her mouth, muscles coiled tight and ready, and she wants more, she wants that heat all over her. His hands nearly hurting her in their urgency to touch, feel, caress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hard, deliciously intent.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Closer, more...please, </span>
  </em>
  <span>her brain screams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers dig in the softness of her thighs when he hitches her up on the prep-counter, lifting her like she weighs nothing. Pulling at her leggings and underwear, every gesture getting more urgent, getting her half naked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s so much eagerness, burning lust in each touch, like he’s been repressing and holding it back furiously for ages and it gets unleashed at once like a torrent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She should feel self conscious at being bare in front of him and yet, there isn’t a single cell inside her that cares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because it's been too long since she’s been touched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because underneath Ben’s cool, collected exterior, there are torrents of carefully contained fire, feeling it burn her with each touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a delicious burn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wishes she was still angry with him, and she is, but she wants him more than she wants to hate him, her brain struggling to make sense of anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's pointless to even try, letting lust take over her entire body, submerging her senses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoves his big hands under her tee, feeling every inch of her with fingers and palms that are so soft and yet so strong. Hands that know what they want. Feeling deliciously small when they span the full circumference of her waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls away and she’s exposed, open, the way he looks at her, taking all of her within his gaze only prompting her to part her legs further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hisses, prying her knees apart with his hands, letting his eyes wander down to her cunt already pooling with arousal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s the hot pressure of his thumb right where she wants to be touched, a slow, tentative circle on her clit that makes her entire body tense with pleasure and she lets out a helpless, shuddery moan that makes him hiss in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at her like he wants to devour her alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has never felt so desired and the sensation is electrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t move.” he whispers against the lobe of her ear, hoarse, out of breath, tugging it with his teeth for good measure, mouth sliding down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heated flesh between her thighs gushes at the pressure of teeth on her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He disappears in the employee locker room, half naked himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His skin is luminous in the dim light, fine grained and taut over smooth muscle. He’s so big and buff, broad. The sight of his strong arms, the powerful lines of his back make her cunt clench with anticipation. The way his waist narrows, hips tapering in the sharp vee of his smooth lower belly. Her mouth waters when she thinks of kissing the soft skin underneath his belly button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When in the world did she get that thirsty for such an infuriating man, Rey wonders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can hear him rummaging through a locker, cursing a little, before reappearing holding a foil packet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A condom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wonders if he was planning this for half a second, and then forgets her words when he shoves those muscled hips between her parted legs, mouth against hers once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teeth, tongue. His kiss is full of desperate hunger and she drowns in it, in the urgency of his hands between them, between her thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stroking her softly, moaning loudly against her lips when she guides two of his large fingers inside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so wet…</span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” he curses, pulsing them slowly, groaning when she squirms with delight, before pushing his open jeans and boxers down witth his other hand, freeing himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lays thick and hot against her thigh, leaking at the tip, and she feels like she’s about to burst into flames. He’s big, but she’s wetter than the ocean and she wants him more than she wants to breathe right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands make quick work of the condom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s too busy kissing him to truly notice, her breath catching in her throat when hands on her hips scoot her all the way to the edge of the counter. Bracing her as he presses the head of his cock inside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Ben...</span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” she moans, urging him closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her teeth catch on his lower lip when he pushes in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can feel the stretch all the way down to the pit of her stomach, leaving her breathless, gasping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her thighs tremble, wrapped tight around his waist, pushing him against her until he bottoms out with a deep groan that makes her insides clench.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The round, defined muscles of his ass flex under her heels when he settles in the tightness of her body, pressing hard against every part of her inner anatomy that makes her head spin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> it will take her an embarassingly short time to orgasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” he growls, echoing her thoughts, pressing his sweaty forehead to hers in a semblance of composure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until her cunt clenches again, urging him to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck me…” she begs, digging her heels harder in the muscular swell of his ass, forcing his hips to align tight with hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It triggers something in his brain that lets out the carefully controlled fire out of its constraints.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is no order or pace past that point, her head falling back in pure euphoria as he starts to thrust, pounding into her like his life depends on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hard, fast, cursing at every stroke that edges them both closer with a deliberate roughness that hits all the right spots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers bite into the back of her thighs, the rounded flesh of her ass, holding her up and apart for the relentless assault of his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels dizzy with sensation, his hot breath against her still clad shoulder, his silky hair sticking to her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fingers clawing at his strong back, feeling the muscles flex underneath soft skin glossed with sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shop is silent but for the sounds of their tryst, harsh breathing, Ben’s loud, shameless moans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cries that only get louder and louder from the relentless friction between her thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rattling of the porcelain cups on the shelf beside them, matching Ben’s tireless thrusts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels like she could completely melt between his hard body and the cool counter, boneless with pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His rhythm gets erratic, faster, more intent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s seeing stars and her world explodes, heat spilling down the pit of her stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The climax has her cursing and pleading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pleading for more, for him to come, she’s not quite sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her thoughts are so incoherent that it's a pointless struggle to make sense of any of it, her only focus the bubbling, overspilling euphoria through her body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The orgasm carries her up the wave and when it crashes around her, Ben is biting the flesh of her shoulder to muffle his own cries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben doesn’t moan his pleasure, he screams it until his throat gets raw. The way he groans her name against her skin when he orgasms makes her feel faint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hips stuttering, muscles clenching in the small of his back until he sags against her body, spent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's over as fast as it started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben’s breathing is harsh and laboured against the sensitive skin where he’s just sunk his teeth, the nerve endings across her skin stinging with aftershocks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at her with eyes darker than midnight pools, glazed with blissful completion and he’s so beautiful from this close that she takes his face in her hands to hold him still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's nothing like the other kisses they’ve exchanged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That one is deep, slow. Like he’s trying to taste the very essence of her being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pleasant scent of his body wraps around her, dispersed by the heat radiating from his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something warm and woodsy, cedar and subtle sweetness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembers the day of the flood, the sweater wrapped around her infused with that very scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory makes her want to laugh, giddy with afterglow, until Ben pulls away and the reality of the situation sinks in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re both half naked, sweaty and still short of breath, and Ben is looking at her with a face clearly torn between shock and embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can still feel him inside her, thick, hot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face burning up to the roots of her wild hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls out, gasping, both their bodies tingling and overstimulated. Avoiding her gaze like it might burn him, cheeks flushed, disappearing in the employee locker room to dispose of the evidence. She slips back into underwear and leggings, legs coltish and unsteady when she slides from the counter..</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hops into them and is sliding into her jacket when he re-emerges, still gloriously shirtless. His body is so fucking gorgeous in the blue-tinted, dim light of the shop, his dishevelled hair grazing his shoulders and swollen lips relaxed. There are little marks down his pale throat where she bit him, a bright red one around his right nipple, and the sight of them makes her want to crawl underneath a table and maybe hide there forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stare at each other for an awkward minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go study!” she blurts, breaking the tension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to act like he didn’t just come inside her two minutes prior, her knees still unsteady with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He runs a hand through his lush waves, glossy black in the low light, nodding, the flush reaching down his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah yeah…um…I have paperwork so…yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…</span>
  <em>
    <span>um</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns on her heel and leaves before their stunted, awkward conversation can go any further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside is freezing cold, she regrets not taking her bike, but then again, wonders if she could have even ridden it in her condition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a fifteen minute walk, and each step is a sharp reminder of what she’s just done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pleasantly sore, still embarrassingly wet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a shower when she gets to her apartment, dried sweat stinging her skin, gently touching the sensitive skin between her thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remembering Ben’s fingers there, his cock, inside her, makes her entire body erupt in goosebumps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks of his mouth replacing his fingers between her thighs and her knees nearly buckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still wants him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t believe her own mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all he’s put her through, and all it takes for her to lust and ache over him are a few minutes of violent, angry sex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so good, his hands on her, his big cock filling her to the brim. The way his abs flexed when he thrust deep enough to make her see stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t want to think of the tenderness that came with it. The way he’d looked at her lost in bliss in the seconds after they’d both climaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking of that kiss makes her heart throb painfully in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that anything will happen after those painfully awkward post-coital five minutes, and she definitely has to quit now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much </span>
  </em>
  <span>embarrassment she can handle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the foggy bathroom mirror, the teeth marks imbedded in the gold skin of her shoulder are already turning a purplish red, bruising around the edges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hates herself for wanting more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> has to quit now.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The morning walk to work is painful, in more ways than one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bike is sadly out of the question. Not for the next few days at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s dreading facing Ben, announcing to him that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> is leaving now because god knows what kind of bullshit last night’s mistake is gonna get her in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben and his complicated feelings, Ben and his lush lips, Ben whom she wanted to fuck again right this second because how dare he make her feel this way...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because that’s what it was, a mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s been trying very hard to convince herself of it. Every second since she’s left his presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was a mistake Rey, and he’ll remind you of it as soon as you see him. Just a mistake.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Rebel Coffee is quiet when she lets herself in, thinking that maybe Ben hasn’t arrived yet, but he materializes out of the office when she walks by the open door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey…” she starts but he’s already crowding her against the adjacent wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She notices his hair is a little wild, and he’s wearing the white button down she really likes on him, the perfect pink shade of his lips and before there is time for her to notice anything else his arms are around her waist and he’s kissing her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling her tight to him as his lips gently question hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart does that weird somersault thing that never fails to convince her that she’s dying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She falls into it as easily as she has the night before, her arms reaching around his shoulders, the kiss deepening of its own accord.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has that beautiful, dreamy look in his amber eyes when he pulls away, breathless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you still want to quit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses his forehead to hers and she feels even more out of breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um…I still have to think about it I guess?” she starts, but he leans down and kisses her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slower, harder, tongue touching hers in a way that makes her knees weak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Makes her lust after him even harder than she had last night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips are lush and red when he pulls away, leaving her gasping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who would’ve guessed that there was so much fire in a man so cold?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Certainly not her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now?” he asks, his voice low and soft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has no brain cells left to answer his question and he smiles at her confusion, leaning down to claim her lips again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile is magnificent, and even more so when instead of answering she pulls him inside the office and drags him down on top of her on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make me reconsider.” she whispers against his throat, feeling the hard bulge in his jeans when he pushes hips between her parted legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do my best.” he murmurs, sinking to his knees on the floor, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect </span>
  </em>
  <span>hands tearing at the scrap of cotton between his questing mouth and her wet cunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hands sink in the lush thickness of his hair, thighs settling over his shoulders and then there’s only his mouth on her and complete, utter bliss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are no words after that. None needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coffee shop opens an hour late for the first time since opening its doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one comments on his dishevelled appearance as he apologizes to the people waiting in front of the glass door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line of patrons stretches all the way outside of the shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben takes the orders and she keeps busy behind the steaming machine, the two of them exchanging heated, subdued gazes here and there that make fires burst in the pit of her stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her legs are a little sore, and so are her hips from slamming repeatedly against the hardwood edge of the table when he’d fucked her against it. She treasures the feeling, remembering the way he’d cried out her name against the back of her neck in his climax. She likes this new, sensual, loud version. She likes it </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She wonders if the clients notice their bruised, swollen lips and the teeth marks on Ben’s collarbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The deep flush of her cheeks when he looks over to her with eyes as incandescent as a roaring fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How he finds excuses to come close and lay a hand on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her waist. The small of her back. Any excuse is a good one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There isn’t a single thing that anyone could say or do that could take the smile off her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even him.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>In the afternoon, after Hux has arrived, she studies in the office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's hard not to react to Hux’s pointed looks and claims that something has changed around here, Ben’s cheeks flushing when he loudly complains that someone is stealing condoms from his locker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s sleepy and content, Ben’s black hoodie draped around her shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He comes in, carrying a cup on a saucer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hux is right. There’s something different about him, like a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His demeanor is easy, relaxed, his smiles bright and genuine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even the clients comment on it, sending him into fits of coughing and blushing accompanied by his usual embarrassed gesturing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a whole new facet of him they’re all seeing, a facet she had no idea even existed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only they knew what had happened in that very shop only a few hours prior, they might be a little shocked at the cause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He puts the saucer down in front of her, pausing only to squeeze the back of her neck gently, fingers lingering on her skin before leaving the office, a gesture she quickly identified as his kind of subtle affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her morning had been filled with gentle, discreet touches that made her heart race in completely different ways than it had last night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the surface of the coconut latte are three little hearts, expertly poured by Ben’s clever hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles to herself, admiring the steaming cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she’ll work here a little longer after all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed the trash, let me know where I messed up in comments pls</p></blockquote></div></div>
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